


Beautiful Scars

by Highlady_ofbooks



Category: A Court of Thorns and Roses Series - Sarah J. Maas
Genre: Acceptance, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Mention of Whipping, Trigger: Burning, be warned, not terribly graphic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-21
Updated: 2018-05-21
Packaged: 2019-05-09 23:21:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,334
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14725536
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Highlady_ofbooks/pseuds/Highlady_ofbooks
Summary: When Azriel wakes up from a nightmare, Lucien is there to comfort him and tells Azriel his own stories. In turn, Azriel shares his.





	Beautiful Scars

**Author's Note:**

> I am so happy to finally be writing a fic featuring Luzriel! I apologize if my writing isn't at its best. I am working through some Writer's Block at the moment. Please let me know your thoughts afterward! Enjoy! <3

_ The black void of my cell is all I know. Since I was old enough to be on my own, I have lived in this damned place, the only reprieve being the hour a week when I visit my mother. And the hour a day, but even then it isn’t true freedom; I am watched, guarded, like an animal about to escape its cage. Darkness has become my solace for it is the only way I know I don’t have to endure my half-brothers’ torture.  _

 

_ I hear steps coming. I see flames dancing along the cement walls. I think of making a prayer to the Mother, Cauldron, or both, but it has never worked before, so why bother now?  _

 

_ “Azriel,” a voice - the one belonging to the taller brother - sings, snickers following. _

 

_ “Come out, come out, wherever you are.” A cruel joke. They know exactly where I am, as I’m always trapped in the cell. Then again, what about them isn’t cruel? Isn’t a joke? _

 

_ Finally, they appeared. I tried to create distance between myself and the vicious beasts and ended up meeting a wall. _

 

_ “Relax, Azriel,” The second one speaks now. “We just had a thought and wanted to share it with you.” A ruthless smirk appeared. “We were wondering what would happen if you mixed an Illyrian’s quick healing gifts with oil - and fire.” _

 

_ “Of course we needed a test subject, and we thought, who better than our father’s bastard child.” _

 

No.

 

_ They laughed at the horror and fear written for all to see on my face.  _

 

_ “Hold him.” _

 

_ The tall one wrenched my hands away from where I was desperately trying to hide them in a futile attempt at avoided their latest sadistic game. I shut my eyes tightly waiting for the scheme to be over.  _

 

Maybe it won’t be painful, _ I tried to reason with myself.  _ Maybe Illyrian healing works.

 

_ I felt a greasy liquid coat my hands. I heard the strike of a match, the flames bursting to life.  _

 

_ One of the monsters said something, but I wasn’t paying attention to his words. _

 

_ Then all I felt was a pain like no other. ‘Pain’ wasn’t even the right word. _

 

_ I was burning, screaming, and sobbing; wishing and crying for someone to help me. _

 

Get me out of this! Out of this hell, _ I prayed.  _ Please. Please. Help me.

* * *

__

 

“Azriel! Azriel! Wake up!” I yelled, trying to wake Azriel’s thrashing body.

 

He woke up with a gasp, heaving in gulps of air. I quickly got off the bed to open the bedroom windows, offering fresh air before rushing back to his side. I rubbed soothing circles on his lower back, muttering words of comfort. He buried his face in his arms, rocking back and forth. 

 

“What did you dream of?” I whispered minutes laters.

 

“I…” Az lifted his head, eyes closed. “My hands.”

 

I paused my soothing strokes for a split second before resuming them. His scarred hands are a sensitive subject and Azriel rarely spoke about the events that led to the markings. We’ve been together for five years and I still didn’t know the story. But I understood. My scarred eye and back are sensitive to me as well. I haven’t said anything about how I received them, though I’m sure Az already knew, seeing as how he is a shadowsinger and spy.

 

“Do you want to talk about it?” A shake of his head. 

 

For some reason I couldn’t explain, I wanted to share my story. Maybe it was to comfort Azriel in the way only another victim telling their story could. 

 

“May I tell you my story?” I asked. Azriel nodded, curling his hands away from my view.

 

“As I’m sure you’ve figured out, I don’t have much of a filter. Probably never have, if I’m being honest. I was sent to Amarantha as Tamlin’s emissary to see if some peace treaty could be forged between them. When she refused, I… well, I didn’t take it well to put it kindly. Told her to ‘go back to shit-hole she crawled out of.’ My eye was punishment. She carved it out, then scarred my face.”

 

“I thought the scar was formed as a result of her taking out your eye,” Azriel whispered, voice hoarse.

 

“You didn’t know?” I was shocked. I was sure that he knew.

 

“I only gathered information that would be vital for the court. Sorry,” Azriel winced, “That sounds horrible of me.”

 

“It’s alright, Az,” I said, placing a kiss on his bare shoulder. “I probably wouldn’t have bothered to figure out the details myself if it happened to anyone else. The only problem is I’m a sucker for the details, no matter how horrid they may be.” Azriel huffed what might’ve been a laugh at that, no doubt remembering the great lengths I have gone to while staying here to find every piece of gossip.

 

“Anyway, I went back to the Spring Court and Tamlin contacted to Nuan who made me the one I have now. But then Feyre had her trials.” I sucked in a breath and closed my eyes, remembering the feeling of the skin on my back breaking open. Blood gushing down. The agonizing pain. “During her first trial with the Middengard Wyrm, while she was baiting the creature, Feyre lost track of it. I told her that the Wyrm was to her left. Tamlin gave me twenty lashes as punishment.” I opened my eyes, allowing the tears to fall. “He never apologized.”

 

“Lucien --” Azriel started to say.

 

“Sorry,” I let out a mirthless chuckle. “I just had an urge to tell you. I guess I just made things worse, huh?”

 

“No -- I -- I am glad you told me,” finally Az looked up. “I wanted you to tell me, and I’m happy you trust me enough to do so.” He leaned forward slowly, one of his hands coming up to cup my cheek, and placed a soft, sweet kiss on my scar. “I am so sorry you had to suffer through that.”

 

Those last words provided me with a feeling of solace. A simple sorry wouldn’t suffice from anyone else. But from someone who had any semblance of what I went through… it conveyed an understanding, consolation.

 

I gently wrapped my arms around Azriel, allowing him time to stop me if he wanted. He accepted the touch and we sat there, me holding him close, and him with his head nestled in the crook of my shoulder.

 

“Since I was able to be on my own, my sire kept me locked in a cell,” Azriel said softly a while later, cold fury lacing his words. “No windows, no light.”

 

I was bright, burning rage. I wanted to go to wherever the hell they live and rip them apart, piece by piece, with my bare hands. 

 

“I was eight when it happened.” Once more, Azriel shut his eyes. “They wanted to know what would happen if oil and fire were mixed with the healing gifts of an Illyrian - another sick, twisted game of theirs. Warriors heard my screams. The scars - physically, emotionally, mentally -  remain.”

 

And nothing could ever completely heal those scars. Of that, I knew. The mark would remain forever, but it can become more bearable.

 

“That never should’ve happened to you, Az. You are so much better than them. They should have treated you better.”

 

At last Azriel turned to me, tears shining in his gorgeous hazel eyes, now shining with raw emotion. So rarely did he let his emotions show.

 

“Thank you, my love,” he whispered. Thanks, not just for the words, but for everything. The adoration he so rightly deserved. The comfort. Everything he has now.

 

“I love you, scars and all. Because your scars are beautiful,” I told him, cupping his hands in mine, and placing a kiss on them.

 

"Yours are beautiful too, love," Azriel said.

 

We shared one last kiss before succumbing to sleep, holding tightly to one another. 

 

We slept through the night.

  
  



End file.
